


Ring Girl

by loststardust



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, bonnie gold being so so lovely and cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26665189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loststardust/pseuds/loststardust
Summary: ‘I’m gonna be at every fight from now on, alright?’ you said, lifting your hand to rub circles on Bonnie’s bicep. ‘Not missing another one.’
Relationships: Bonnie Gold/Original Female Character(s), Bonnie Gold/Reader
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is an old fic of mine, but im posting it here now because i'm currently writing a long-needed second part! enjoy x

You arrived at the end of the fight. Ten minutes too late, when all the men had filed back into their stations and the rope had been wound up again; all signs of the match cleared, minus the champion and his new sponsors. Bonnie stood with his back to you, Aberama next to him, and the two eldest Shelby brothers opposite them both. From the look of it, things had gone exactly as they’d wanted. Bonnie’s posture told you that he was happy, relaxed, that Tommy had nothing but good news for him. You were smiling already. If he was happy, you were too. 

Leaning against the nearest wall, you waited for them to finish, knowing you’d be able to catch Bonnie as he left - to surprise him with a victory kiss. 

That morning he’d told you to wait for him at the camp but, well, you’d never been one for orders. You weren’t about to sit around all day when you could spend it exploring Birmingham some more. 

The Golds’ involvement with the Shelbys had benefited everyone, for you it had meant a chance to re-familiarise yourself with city life; to indulge. You’d visited the markets, thieving whatever caught your eye, tasted the liquor in every bar that’d serve a woman alone, and today you’d placed bets in the Watery Lane bookies - if Bonnie was doing business with the Shelbys, you would too.

When their post-fight meeting concluded, the two brothers were the first to leave. They walked past without so much as glancing at you, either knowing that you were with the Golds, or not entirely caring that a girl was on their factory floor. Either way, you were glad of it. You weren’t there to have small talk with strangers. 

As you pulled your gaze from the back of them, Bonnie and Aberema fell into your line of sight. 

The picture of success: both smiling, both walking with light steps, Aberama’s arm over Bonnie’s shoulders, a flat-peaked cap on your boyfriend’s head. You couldn’t help but grin.

‘I’m assuming it went well?’ you said, as they stopped in front of you. 

Aberama nodded, smile tinging his words in smug-pleasure, ‘The fight was only ever going to go one way, girl, the deal was done before it started. Mr Shelby just had to see it.’

You laughed. ‘I don’t doubt that.’ You’d seen Bonnie fight enough times to know he was impressive; Out-cold Gold was a ring-side nickname that you’d started for him yourself, though it didn’t much catch on when the audience was betting for the other corner. 

Aberama pulled his arm free of Bonnie’ shoulders to tip his hat at you. You smiled back, fond of the man you hoped would one day become your father-in-law. He took off backwards, pointing at Bonnie as he said, ‘Find me in an hour, boy,’ before facing forward and leaving the two of you alone. 

You didn’t wait; in a second you were pressed against Bonnie’s chest, lips on his in the celebratory kiss that you’d long-imagined. His mouth met yours softly, hands falling into place on your lower back, as you ran your thumbs along his jaw. It wasn’t as passionate as you’d expected, but sweet enough. You pulled back, breathless, and smiled at him. 

‘You’re going to be a star, Bonnie Gold,’ you purred. ‘Boxing royalty before you know it.’

He smiled - but his lips were tight enough to make the gesture look forced. 

‘What?’ You stepped back, your hands the last to leave him. ‘Aren’t you happy? You’ve got Shelby money behind you now, Bon.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m happy.’ He nodded. 

You waited for him to answer properly. 

‘You just shouldn’t have come, that’s all.’

‘Did you really think I wouldn’t?’ You shrugged. ‘I’ve seen you fight before.’

He said nothing, but pulled the cap from his head to inspect it in his hands. Although he’d only had it on a few minutes, it felt strange to see him without it, the dark hair beneath seemed to be calling back for its Blinder-adornment.

‘I didn’t even see the fight,’ you continued. ‘By the time I found out what was happening, it was over.’ You didn’t hide your bitterness. ‘Was it Mr Shelby’s idea?’

Bonnie nodded, fingers tracing the rim of the cap. 

‘Thought as much.’ Tommy Shelby seemed to be a man made entirely of ideas. ‘I’m gonna be at every fight from now on, alright?’ you said, lifting your hand to rub circles on Bonnie’s bicep. ‘Not missing another one.’

‘Nope,’ his eyes darted back to yours, ‘no you can’t.’ 

You scoffed. ‘What? Will I put you off?’

He smiled, but shook his head, sighing before he spoke. ‘I can’t keep you safe if I’m in the ring.’ 

‘I don’t need you to, Bon. I can cover myself.’

He cleared his throat and you followed his gaze to note the razor stitched into his cap. ‘These are different fights, dove, different people.’

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Different people, same men. Same weak spots and vulnerabilities. 

‘I can’t have something happen to you,’ he said. 

‘And nothing will.’ 

When he held his reply, you sighed and took a step forward to pull the cap from his hands. ‘Maybe the Peaky Blinders will keep an eye on me for you.’ You put it back onto his head, kissing him quickly before continuing, ‘The cap must come with some benefits, right?’

‘Bloody hope so.’ His eyes ran over your face slowly, lingering on your lips. ‘I can’t talk you out of it, can I?’

‘You’d be dead before you did,’ you teased.

He sighed. ‘Alright. But, you promise me you’ll be careful.’ Taking your face in his hands, he set his eyes steady on yours. ‘No picking pockets. No cheating men out of bets.’

‘It’s all just-’

‘No, dove,’ he stressed, his voice tight. ‘These people are a fucken’ different sort. They don’t care about us, don’t care ‘bout our women.’ 

‘I know.’

‘You can’t be pushing your luck like you do at home. You’ll stick out to them and, when I’m up there, I can’t do anything ‘bout it. ’

You attempted to nod between his palms. ‘Alright. I hear you. I hear you, Bon.’

He relaxed at the words. You heard him; you understood. City-folk are as dangerous as the police are. 

‘Good,’ he said, nodding, ‘good.’ His thumb brushed over your lips, eyes closing briefly as he took a breath. 

If it had been any normal day, the conversation would’ve swelled into an argument. He cared about you enough to see any threat posed toward you as a personal attack. But, fresh from the ring, his energy was spent. He couldn’t get loud about it now. He was all soft-worry and mis-placed stress; the Bonnie you saw least, but loved the most. 

Pulling his wrists, you guided his hands away from your face. When you were free to move again, you closed the space between you and kissed him, smiling into his lips as his hands lifted up and into your hair. 

He met you hungrily, pushing you a few paces until you were backed against the wall. Gripping you tightly, he’d taken control of the kiss you’d started. His tongue dipped into your mouth, his nails caught the back of your neck, and then he pulled away, dragging your lip between his teeth. You were breathless from it, stealing another taste of him between pants. 

‘There you are,’ you whispered, words fogging between your faces. ‘Decided to join the party at last.’

That was the kiss you’d wanted. The one you’d expected from your post-victory boyfriend. 

‘I had to make you work for it, din’t I?’ he replied, smirking as he moved to put his lips to your neck. Between the kisses, he snorted, murmuring words into your flushed skin, ‘You’re like me own personal ring girl.’

You went to laugh, but the sound sunk into a soft moan. Your head rested against the wall as his teeth grazed your skin, your eyes rolling back. 

All too soon, he pulled away. ‘Fuck, almost forgot.’ He pointed back to the cap on his head. ‘Could’ve taken your fucken’ eye out.’

‘Worth the risk,’ you breathed. The fuzz in your mind hadn’t worn off - you were willing to take the blade over letting him leave you like this, desperate for more. 

‘Nah, dove.’ he said with a soft chuckle. ‘Nothin’ is worth more than this face.’ His hand found your cheek again, thumb running over your lips like it had done so many times before. ‘We should go.’

Swallowing, in an attempt to still your growing desire, you nodded. You’d forgotten entirely about your whereabouts. The Shelby factory was no place for you and Bonnie to-

‘Dove?’

‘Yes, Bon?’

He smiled, the amusement nestling in the corners of his eyes. ‘The sooner we go, the sooner we can carry on.’

You didn’t need telling twice. Hand in hand, you let him guide you from the factory and out into the cool air. He was a man of his word, his lips would be on your skin again before you knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

Bonnie woke before you, as he often did. He could’ve left you sleeping, slipped away without stirring you at all, but his softness wouldn’t let him. It never did. He’d told you once that his day couldn’t go right unless you welcomed it in and, after that, you’d stopped complaining. You let him wake you when he wanted and smiled each time that he did.

‘Dove,’ he said quietly, trailing his index finger across your collarbone. ‘It’s morning.’ He drew a line and then looped it, spinning patterns on your skin until you showed signs of waking.

You were on your back, with him on his side next to you. When you’d said goodnight, you’d been tangled together, wound up like string, but he fidgeted too much; in the mornings, you were always apart again. ‘Already?’ you sighed, talking round the edges of a yawn. ‘What time?’

‘Six.’ 

With your eyes still closed, you turned your head, flipping your cheek onto the pillow to face him. ‘More sleep, please,’ you murmured.

He laughed, keeping it quiet and light. Soft like he might’ve startled you. ‘I need you to wish me luck, dove.’

You pulled your eyes open then, peeling the lids apart and blinking a few times to keep them so. ‘Why?’ you asked, yawning afterwards. ‘What’s today?’

The room was dim, lit with what little sun could filter in through the curtains, but he still lay there glowing. Dark eyes melting into amber. His skin fresh and pale, and drawn across his cheeks like bone china. Precious, you thought. Gold in name and value. 

His hand shifted from your chest and pushed under the covers to link with yours. ‘It’s the first day training,’ he said, lips settling into a grin. ‘They’ve got me in the best gym in Birmingham.’ He pulled the word, stretched it and curled it into his accent, cherished it like it was his for the taking. 

Birmingham. The city, the bricks and the smoke. It all held a weight to him that was lost on you. 

‘What do you need training for?’ There wasn’t a man in England that could beat him, you’d seen enough of them try. 

‘It’s important.’ He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. ‘Rules are different.’

‘Fuck rules,’ you answered lazily. ‘You’re all instinct, Bon.’

He squeezed your hand before letting go. ‘Not anymore.’ He sat up with a groan, pausing on the edge of the bed to roll his neck out, to stretch his limbs and wipe his eyes before standing. 

‘Come back,’ you whined, reaching a limp arm over the bed to him. ‘Just for a bit.’

He shook his head as he bent over the chest you both kept your clothes in. ‘I can’t be late.’ 

‘Who says?’ You rolled onto your elbows, chin in your hands. He began to dress himself as you watched. ‘Your dad,’ you asked, ‘or the Shelbys?’

‘Both, dove.’ He ignored the comment you’d slung beneath the words, the question you couldn’t ask outright. Who are you loyal to now Bonnie? Who’s threats scare you the most? ‘I have to go,’ he said.

‘I think I preferred when you were boxing trees.’ 

The soft smile you knew so well fell onto his features — the one that said, you’re difficult, but you’re mine. He came back to the bed and ran a hand over your hair. ‘Trees don’t pay, y’know. This is good for us.’

It’s good for Aberama, you thought. ‘Will you be away for long?’

‘Just the day,’ he said. ‘You’ll have me again before it’s dark.’ 

You smiled and turned to kiss his wrist. ‘I suppose I can keep myself busy til then.’

He nodded, and leant down to return the gesture, planting his lips onto the top of your head. ‘Be good,’ he said as he stood again. ‘Don’t be gettin’ into trouble.’

‘When do I ever get myself in trouble, Bon?’ 

‘Almost everyday,’ he answered.

You’d only lingered in bed a little longer after Bonnie left, then you’d washed and dressed, and walked from the camp with your hair damp and frizzing. It wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t cold enough to make you regret it either. It’d be dry by the time you got to town. You had thought about getting the train from the nearest station, but why bother when you had all day to waste anyway. The walk would do you good. 

When you got to Small Heath, you followed the canals, clinging to those streaks of almost wilderness. They weren’t natural, but it felt nicer to walk them than the roads. You didn’t pass another soul until it took you through the Shelby yard. The old man that owned it gave you a look as you arrived, but said nothing. Perhaps he knew who you were. Perhaps he’d made the connection on his own, from the way you dressed, the way you carried yourself. Bonnie had said their family was Romani too, and kin recognise kin no matter how long ago they settled. 

‘Can I cut through here, sir?’ you asked him.

He nodded once, wiping his hands clean on a rag that was already black with coal. ‘One of the Golds, are you?’ 

‘Not yet.’ You smiled as you veered from the comfort of the canal path to cross the yard. ‘Won’t be long, though,’ you added as you passed him. 

He ignored your comment as you thought he would. ‘Don’t make it a habit, love, walking through here. S’a working boat yard, you know.’

You waved a hand over your shoulder in acknowledgment; you never made anything habit.

Following whim had led you to the bookies on Watery Lane. Last time you were there, Finn, you think he’s called, had let you place a bet on the Blinders’ winning horse. You didn’t follow the races yourself, you just did it because you could. Because it had never been offered to you before. He’d suggested a horse and you’d agreed to it, put the few pounds you’d had into his palm and told him to go for it. Make me a winner, Peaky boy. 

He wasn’t around this time. When you walked into the betting shop, all the thick-sculled men twisted their necks to look at you. They went quiet like you were a ghost. Like they’d never seen a woman before. 

‘I placed a bet,’ you said, to the room, because no one offered to help you. ‘Last week.’

‘Did ya, love,’ said the closest, laughing as he turned back to his work. 

You stood straighter. ‘Yes.’ You took the slip Finn had given you, and held it out to him, shoving it under his nose so he was forced to look at it. ‘See?’

The man glanced at you sideways and then took the receipt, sitting back to scrutinise it. ‘Who the bloody hell let you do that?’ he said, accent thick and rolling and itching under your skin.

‘Finn Shelby,’ you told him, knowing it was a weapon to say so. They could be as rude as they liked, but you knew they were all hares in a trap that the Shelbys’ set. You watched the smugness flush from his expression. ‘So,’ you purred, ‘did I win?’

He shook his head, then he sighed. Then he leant forward again and held the paper back out for you to take. ‘No, love,’ he said. ‘You lost like the rest of them.’

Frowning, you took the receipt and shoved it, crumpled, back into your pocket. ‘It was fixed?’ you asked. ‘He had me bet on the wrong horse?’

‘I’m not sayin’ that.’ 

But he wouldn’t, even if Finn had. ‘He said it would win,’ you continued, your words bitter and souring. ‘Was blessed, he said.’

The man cleared his throat. ‘Can’t be helped.’

It could, in fact, be helped. 

‘Do you have a toilet?’ you asked. 

You’d sweetened your voice slightly and it had worked, because he nodded and pointed to the back of the room, past the tables and the workers, without even looking up at you. You followed the direction he’d sent you in, and locked yourself into the toilet for long enough to seem convincing. 

If Finn could sell you a false bet, you saw no harm in getting back what was wrongly taken from you — with some interest, of course. 

When it seemed reasonable, you left the toilet and started back through the shop, eyes scanning the tables as you passed them. It mustn’t have been long since they took their last winnings; the desks were busy with notes, and pennies, and men counting as fast as their education would let them. Seeing a suitably abandoned pile, close to the edge of the nearest, you paused and crouched. No-one was taking any notice of you. You tied your lace though it had never been undone and then, with a final check for safety, you stole the money. Your hand curled over the table-edge, pushing the top inch of notes from the pile and into your waiting pocket. It was so easy you almost laughed. 

In a way, you wish you had laughed. Now, you knew it wouldn’t have made a difference, because you never got away with it. If you’d have laughed at the time, you might’ve been able to flirt your way out of the trouble.

After standing, you had started to walk away, nonchalant and pleased with your actions. And then the thin-moustached man, who was previously looking for his cigarettes, had turned back and noticed. You’d been hoping he would be clueless to it. Or at least slow enough that you’d be out the door and down the road before he realised. 

‘Oi,’ he barked, ‘where’s that fucking money gone?’

There wasn’t chance to plea your case. Out of everyone in the shop, it could have only ever been you that was responsible. It didn’t take them long to work that out. 

You were by the campfire when Aberama found you. He knew already what’d happened, at least, he knew what Mikey had told him, who knew what you had told Allie, which really wasn’t all that much. All you’d said to her, was that you’d robbed some money from the wrong man, and he’d smacked the sense back into you. She didn’t need to know that it involved Shelby business, because Aberama didn’t need to know. The paths that gossip took were predictable enough that you’d accounted for it. 

When he got to you, the kettle you’d been waiting for finally hissed and screamed into its boiling point. You reached for it, but Aberama took it off the flames and set it onto the table before you could. No tea for you, then. Just inquisition. 

‘So, what am I meant to tell Bonnie this time?’ he asked, crossing his wrists over his front. ‘He’ll be back soon.’

‘I know.’ You felt inclined to keep your face hidden, choosing to stare down at the fire instead of looking at him. ‘It’s nothing serious,’ you told him. The first slap had been hard enough to split your lip, the second just enough to bruise the cushioning beneath your eye. Everything else was so minor it barely left an ache. 

‘Everything is serious to him, girl.’ 

You nodded.

‘This will hurt him,’ he said.

‘I know,’ you agreed. He didn’t want to hear anything else from you after all. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

‘You will.’ He stepped closer, and dipped his head so you couldn’t help but look at him. You didn’t find him threatening, just chilling. Unreadable but familiar enough that you couldn’t be scared of him. ‘I won’t have you distracting him now,’ he warned. ‘I like you, but I won’t hesitate to make a choice on his behalf.’ 

You nodded. He lifted your chin with the tips of his fingers to get a proper look at you. 

‘You’re too rough for all your sweetness,’ he said. Then, after a moment of consideration, he added, ‘I’ll tell Bonnie before he sees you, but make this the last time, dear.’

After that, you sat on the steps to your wagon, anxiety rotting in your gut, until the sun had began to set. Just before it fell enough to make the sky feel dark, Bonnie came home. He entered the camp whistling, his hands in his pockets, his steps free and bounding. He saw you from across the way, but Aberama intercepted him before he could get any closer. 

Guilt bit at your ankles as the joy went from his shoulders and into the mulch, his high from the day’s training lost once he heard of your own stupidity. You watched his brows pull together. His hands left his pockets in fists. The worst part of it, was knowing that it could’ve been avoided. You could’ve taken your failed bet and left, could’ve gone home and read, and waited. Could’ve lay down and listened to him gush about the fights he’d had. Instead, you had to watch his buzz harden into anger, and sit under the weight of his gaze as he approached. 

When he got to you, he was mute. His jaw set and unset. 

‘Bon,’ you started, looking up at him, ‘before you say anything—‘

‘No, dove,’ he stopped you. He folded his arms and then unwound them again, fidgeting in the way he did when he tried to keep himself calm. When he tried to put words before actions. ‘I told you to be careful,’ he said. His voice was so taut it was almost a whisper. 

You exhaled heavily. Not in a sigh, in deflation. You dropped your head but he lifted it again, his hand so light against your cheek that it may as well have not been there. It was the intention more than the grip that brought your eyes back to his. While he scanned your face, you sat vacant, waiting for the disapproval to load onto his features. His thumb moved to hover over the cut in your lip, his eyes dark and scrutinising. 

‘Who was it?’ he asked pointedly, still talking through the catch of his teeth. 

‘No one.’ 

‘Don’t do that.’

‘Bon,’ you pushed his hand away, ‘it’s like you said, they’re less forgiving in the city. I know that now.’

He wasn’t satisfied. He knew you too well, knew you were smarter than getting caught for pickpocketing. ‘I’ll ask you again, who was it?’

Rolling your eyes, you looked away from him. You couldn’t lie to his face as easily as you could with others. ‘I don’t know names,’ you said.

‘What happened then?’ he replied, standing limp before you. His gaze bore into the bruise on your cheek. ‘Where were you?’

If Bonnie was anything, he was stubborn. The only person you knew other than yourself, that would run a thought into the ground, let an idea posses him until he found whatever it was he wanted. You closed your eyes for a moment, knowing the next words to come out your mouth would only make things worse. And yet, there you were, preparing to say them anyway.

‘I took money,’ you said slowly, 'from the Shelby bookmakers.’

‘What?’ The word hissed out of him, piercing the quiet bubble that had previously kept you safe from curious stares. Now, they looked freely, heads turning in your direction as Bonnie continued. ‘Fucken’ what?’ he spat. ‘They did this?’

‘No, no, Bon…’ You rolled your head between your shoulders, searching for something, anything, to say to quell him. ‘It wasn’t like that exactly.’

‘Then how was it like?’ His hands curled up again, rigid and set for striking. 

‘Finn gave me a dud bet,’ you explained quickly. ‘I went and he wasn’t there, and they all gave me a look as if I shouldn’t be, and I thought, well, fuck them, I’ll take my own winnings.’

‘I’ll kill ‘em.’

You groaned. ‘No, Bon, I was being stupid. I deserved it, really. I mean, it was broad daylight, in a shop full of—’

‘Those Blinder fucks,' he cursed, turning to pace away from you. He spat into the leaves and threw a hand up to grab the cap from his head. ‘I’m s’posed to be fucken’ one of ‘em.’

‘Bonnie.’ You stood, stepping wide enough to reach him. You grabbed him by the arm and forced him to still. ‘It was a Blinder who stopped it,’ you said. 

‘Yeah?’ His eyes darkened. ‘Not soon enough.’

‘He wasn’t there,’ you stressed. ‘When he came, he told them who I was. It’s sorted, Bon, we sorted it.’

You’d apologised to Finn, and he’d done the same. You were both crooks after all. There was too much between them and the Golds to be lost, so you’d agreed with him to leave it there, no bad blood. No revenge needed from either side. It’d be forgotten about before sunrise if Bonnie let it.

‘What’re you gonna do, Bonnie?’ you asked, softening your voice. ‘You go there and all this is ruined. I won’t let you do it.’ 

His jaw set again. ‘They hurt you, dove.’

‘I know.’ You rubbed his bicep. ‘It’s not worth it, still. Not even for me.’

‘Don’t keep sayin’ things like that,’ he scolded. ‘Always puttin’ me before you.’

His brows folded, and when he pulled away from your touch you let him. He looked upwards, to the trees, then to his feet. He was working through it. Tucking away the anger to consider the repercussions. There wasn’t anything he could do without causing more problems, no punch he could land without throwing the fight. He needed to be in the Shelby’s good books, for Aberama, for his career. He may not have liked it, but it was the truth. 

‘Alright,’ he said, after a forced breath. ‘If it’s sorted?’

‘It is,’ you answered. ‘It’s forgotten.’

He nodded tightly. Then, for the first time, his expression faltered, softness melting the lines between his eyebrows. ‘You are alright, aren’t you, dove?’ 

You smiled, ignoring the pinch as it tugged the scab on your lip. ‘It’s nothing.’

Tutting, he pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around you tightly. ‘Leave the fightin’ to me, ey?’ He said by your ear, words light and sad all the same. ‘Dun’t suit you.’

The hug was warm, and tight, and he smelt like a football team straight off the pitch, but you couldn’t pull away. You wanted to sink into him, right between the bones, and stay there. Mine, you thought. Mine and yours. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you said, the stress delayed and boiling in your chest. ‘I could’ve fucked it up for you.’ You’d acted selfishly. It was pure luck, and understanding, and wilful retreat that kept it from shattering everything he and Aberama had built. 

‘Ah,’ he soothed, his palm running up your back, ‘you know we don’t worry ‘bout the past.’

He didn’t but you did. Always, and relentlessly. 

‘Here,’ he said, pulling back to hold your face. He kissed you once, gently, careful ‘cause he knew how it’d hurt, and then smiled. ‘I’ve still got to tell you ‘bout me day.’

‘Yeah?’ You leant back into his arms. ‘How’d it go?’ 

His eyes lit up. They shone in the twilight. ‘They said I’m gonna be a star, dove. A fucken’ star.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it feels sooo good to finally add to this, and write bonnie again. hope you enjoyed! x


End file.
